


Medley, Part 2

by dsa_archivist



Category: The Sentinel, due South
Genre: Crossover, First Time, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-08
Updated: 2003-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Things hit a snag.





	Medley, Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Medley, Part 2

## Medley, Part 2

by Scribe

Author's website: http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles

Disclaimer: This story is not meant to reflect on the lives of the actors who portrayed these characters.

Author's Notes: medley (plural medleys) noun 1.music: musical sequence of different songs: a continuous piece of music consisting of two or more different tunes or songs played one after the other 2. Mixture of things: a mixture or assortment of various things 

Story Notes: This is the second in the Swingers Series--A The Sentinel crossover series.

* * *

Part Two  
Whys and Wherefores 

Simon watched, bemused, as Stanley flopped in one of the two chairs before his desk, and Fraser tried to get first Blair, then Jim to accept the remaining seat before being persuaded to take it himself, with a heartfelt, "Thank you kindly." Blair made the introductions, prompting the Mountie to leap up once again to shake hands. 

Stanley noted Simon's stare as Fraser resumed his seat. As he shook Simon's hand himself, he nodded wryly. "Yeah, Benny has that effect on people." 

"So, Constable Fraser, Detective Vecchio--you're here to extradite a prisoner? May I see the paper work?" 

"Of course. How remiss of me." Benton started to unbutton his tunic. Jim was glad that Blair was standing behind Benton, out of his line of sight. The look of surprised joy on his face was palpable. The Mountie reached into his tunic and removed a couple of forms, then handed them to Simon. He explained. "I hope you do not mind. I prefer not to fold them, if possible, and this is much easier to deal with than carrying a briefcase for such a small amount of paper work." 

"I think it's ingenious," Blair murmured. 

"Why, thank you." Fraser gave him a dazzling smile over his shoulder. "You know, for centuries the Inuit have carried small, important items inside their clothing, close to their body for added protection." 

Blair's face lit up. "Tribal culture? I'm an anthropologist!" Benton's smile grew, if anything, more pleased. Jim and Stanley groaned simultaneously. They exchanged startled, then commiserate looks. 

"Please don't get him started about the Inuit," Stanley begged. "We'll miss our flight. We only have six hours. Benny, we need to tell them why we're here. You can set up a cultural exchange program, or lecture schedule, or whatever, with Sandburg later." 

"You are right, of course, Ray. I apologize. Yes, Captain Banks. We are here, as the papers say, for one Solomon Tyson. Mr. Tyson is wanted in connection with the sale of stolen merchandise--in particular, a 17" Panasonic computer monitor." 

"You came all the way out to Cascade to pick up a perp for _that?_ The airline tickets cost more than the merchandise," Simon protested. 

"Yes sir, we are aware of that, but that is merely the initial charge. You see, the monitor was determined to be part of a shipment that was confiscated as it was being smuggled into Canada. While one monitor is not much, an eighteen wheel tractor-trailer truck full of them most certainly is." 

"How did you know this monitor came from that batch?" asked Jim, curiously. He moved to stand beside Simon's desk, because he was afraid that Fraser was going to wrench his neck, twisting around politely to look at his listener when he spoke. 

"Serial numbers. He offered it for sale to a young man who was participating in our Cops and Computers outreach program--a very gifted young man, I might add. Thankfully he seems to intend to use his computer skills on the side of law and order instead of 'hacking', I believe they call it. We are choosing to ignore the fact that he accessed police files in order to check the serial number." 

Jim nodded. "A semi full? Yeah, that's a bit of change, all right. Worth a trip." 

Stanley smirked. _Oh, what I'd like to do to that mouth_ , Jim thought. 

"That isn't _all_ , though," Stanley stated. "Solly is in a world of trouble." 

"You see," Fraser went on. "With Chicago being the third largest city in the United States, located as it is on Lake Michigan and being on route for several major traffic arteries, our area does an inordinate amount of commercial shipping of all kinds. Millions of dollars each fiscal year, if not billions. Is that not so, Ray?" 

"Benny, I don't keep track of the freakin' commerce records. That's for the public relations people to bull shit tourists. All I know is that a shit load of contraband and hot stuff passes through every year." 

"As Raymond said, a... great deal of smuggling and hijacking takes place in our jurisdiction. Much of the goods are either taken from, or end up in Canada, thus my involvement. We do our best, along with the port authority and coast guard, but the territory is just too extensive for us to be really effective on our budget." 

"Okay," Jim said. "You have a problem. How does a small-time booster figure in? He just arranged for a monitor to 'fall off' that truck, didn't he?" 

Stanley ran his hand over his hair again, grinning. "Not exactly. Ya see, Solly is the nephew of Bernardo Tyson. Or, as he's known in certain circles 'Bust the Border Bernie'. Bernie has been operating most of the smuggling and hijacking going on in Illinois for the past twenty years." 

"Nephew?" Blair rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me." 

"Yup. Nepotism." 

Jim grinned. _Hm, Benton isn't the only one who can use two dollar words._

"Bernie gave his little sister's idiot child a job." Stanley laughed. "God bless stupid criminals. They're the ones who get caught, and in this case, we're hoping Solly will help us catch his uncle Bernie." 

Simon frowned. "He might not cooperate. Do you think he'll turn?" 

"I think he'll spin like Anna Pavlova up on tippie-toe, once we get our hands on him. He ran because he was more afraid of his uncle than of us. Bernie doesn't like people doing things that draw the attention of the authorities. Especially since all the geek had to do was draw a paycheck, and instead he got greedy." 

"Solomon, sad to say, has not led a blameless existence prior to this incident." Fraser sounded for all the world as if he were genuinely grieved by the crook's bad behavior. "He has already served small terms for two felony convictions. This will be his third." 

"Ball park justice." Stanley stated. "He's on his third strike. They'll put him _under_ the pen, _unless_..." He held up one finger. 

"He sings." Blair concluded. 

Stanley nodded with satisfaction. "Like it's karaoke night at the Ramada Inn, and he's had a few too many." 

"Ray expresses himself rather colorfully, but yes, that is the gist of the situation," Fraser agreed. 

"Well," Simon said, "I'm sure Sandburg and Ellison won't mind putting aside that little pot bust in the interest of the greater good." 

Blair shrugged. "Of course not." 

"That is most considerate of you, Blair." Fraser said sincerely. "I do hope that I will be able to repay you in some small manner." 

Blair's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "Oh, we'll think of something." 

Simon got on the phone. "I'll just tell holding to get him ready for you. Yeah, Prescott? You have a perp down there on a grass buy charge by the name of Solomon Tyson. We need..." Simon paused, frowning. "What do you mean, 'not for long'? You aren't trying to release him, are you? I thought he couldn't make bail." Another pause. "What ambulance? Oh." Another pause. "Well, damn. Sure, you have to. I'll tell the officers." 

Simon hung up. Stanley said sourly, "Ya know, I have a feeling you're about to tell me something that I'm really _not_ going to like." 

"Tyson has been experiencing nausea and diarrhea since yesterday." 

Jim winced. "I really didn't need to know that." 

Ignoring him, Simon continued. "He's running a temperature and experiencing abdominal pain." 

Fraser's forehead wrinkled. "Oh, dear. That would seem to indicate appendicitis." 

Simon nodded. "An ambulance is on the way to take him to the hospital for an exam and a white cell count. If that's what it is, they'll do the operation. In any case, he isn't going anywhere soon except to the emergency room." 

Stanley slapped his hands on the chair arms. "Well, crap! The little bastard has to go and get an inflammation of a totally useless scrap of flesh at exactly the right time to throw a wrench into things." 

"He did not do it on purpose, Ray," Fraser said mildly. 

Stanley's tone was belligerent. "Yeah? How do you know?" At Benton's accusing stare, he sighed. "All right, okay, I know. But what are we gonna do _now?_ " 

Benton looked thoughtful. "I believe the most logical course of action would be to call Lieutenant Welch and inform him of the situation before making any decisions on our own." Fraser pulled out his wallet and extracted a small plastic card. "Sir, if you would allow me to use your telephone, I have a calling card." 

"Be my guest." Simon pushed it toward him. "Punch nine to get out." 

"Thank you kindly." 

As Fraser carefully read the information off the card and punched in a long string of numbers, Jim whispered to Stanley, "Is he always like this? So... so..." 

"Perfect? Yeah. He makes Eagle Scouts blush with envy. But you can't really dislike him for it; he's such a nice guy. He's not trying to show anyone up. It's just how he is." 

They listened as Fraser explained the situation to the Lieutenant. Then Fraser listened, nodding. "Yes, sir. I see. No, sir. Of course. Will you be so good as to inform Inspector Thatcher? Yes, she will see that Diefenbaker is cared for. Thank you. Yes, sir. As soon as we know. Good bye." He hung up. 

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Stanley grimaced. "We're stuck, right?" 

"That is correct, Ray. Lieutenant Welsh feels that it would be shamefully extravagant to fly back to Chicago for a day or two when we will only have to return. He pointed out that it will be much less expensive if we acquire temporary lodging and return with Mr. Tyson once he is recovered sufficiently to travel." 

"Mhm. And did Welsh hint at how we were supposed to _pay_ for these accommodations?" 

"The department will reimburse all expenses." 

"In about six months. But Benny, you got to have money to spend in the first place for them to reimburse you. I got forty bucks to last me till next payday. I know damn good and well that won't buy a rat hole for one night, and I chipped up my MasterCard with a pair of scissors in self-defense. What about you?" 

Fraser frowned. "Goodness, Ray. You know I do not have a credit card. I do not believe in them." 

"One of these days, Benny, you're gonna wander back through that time warp into the Victorian era." Stanley looked at Simon hopelessly. "I don't suppose they'd have a couple of spare cots at the Academy?" 

"They're capacity." 

"Say!" said Blair brightly. 

Jim forced down a smile. _Here it comes._

"I have an idea. We have some spare room at our place. You two could crash there till it was time for you to split. You wouldn't mind, would you, Big Guy?" Blair turned Horny Puppydog eyes on his lover. 

_Oh, like I'm going to say no when you look at me like that. Besides, I wouldn't mind having Blondie near to hand._ "Nah, that'd be great. You and Fraser could discuss... uh, primitive cultures." 

"You betcha." 

"You are certain it would be no bother?" Fraser asked diffidently. "I could easily sleep on a couch or the floor. I am used to it." 

Blair cocked his head. "I just noticed. You never use contractions." 

"No, I do not. My grandmother Fraser considered them a form of slang, and therefore a linguistic abomination." 

Stanley volunteered. "Frase may not care if he snoozes on the floor, but I _do_. I want a nice, soft, warm, comfortable bed after that damn plane ride." 

"Oh, I think I can provide that," Jim said, glaring at Blair when he giggled. "Why don't we go on down to holding so you can get a look at Tyson before they ship him off?" 

"Sounds like a plan." Stanley got up and slipped past Jim, exiting the office. Jim dialed up his sense of smell, and drank him in as he passed. 

_Gum, Irish Spring soap, some sort of spicy after-shave, almost smells like cinnamon and vanilla. Yummy._ Jim caught up with him at the hall, and Blair and Fraser followed. Blair was telling him about certain similarities between the Inuit culture and the Peruvian Indian tribe Jim had spent time with. Fraser looked fascinated. "Those two seem to be hitting it off well," Jim commented. 

Stanley slid a glance back at the other two. His gaze was a mixture of pride, exasperation, and affection. "Yeah. I'm glad. I'm a little impatient with Benny about his Canadian folklore and stuff sometimes. I keep wanting to ask him what it has to do with the price of eggs. The funny thing is, he's right a lot of the time. It _does_ sometimes apply to things that are going on in our cases, even if it is in a cockeyed way." He grinned. "It just hurts like pulling teeth to admit it." 

"Testify, my brother." 

"You too?" 

"I admire the hell out of Blair, but I usually don't want to hear how the ancient Minoan system of family values impacts on a money laundering racket we're investigating." 

"He can find connections with _that?_ Holy crap, and I thought _Benny_ was convoluted. So, we both got odd ball partners we probably wouldn't swap for all the gold in Fort Knox." He slid a brilliant blue gaze toward Jim as they entered the elevator. "What _else_ do you suppose we got in common?" 

* * *

End Medley, Part 2 by Scribe:

Author and story notes above.


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